


the freedom of flight

by crimsvn



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Dialogue Heavy, Dragons, Fluff and Humor, Getting Together, Historical Inaccuracy, Light Angst, M/M, Prince GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Prince!George, Shapeshifting, Time Skips, dragon shifter!dream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:09:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28066008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crimsvn/pseuds/crimsvn
Summary: Throughout his life, Prince George had spent much of his time with the kingdom's dragons at their stables, alongside the stablehand, Phil. So when Phil has to leave the castle to attend to some business elsewhere, George isn't quite sure what to expect of his replacement, especially having not known of Phil's newfound absence until the day of.(Nor would he expect the secret the new stablehand held close.)
Relationships: Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 13
Kudos: 248





	the freedom of flight

**Author's Note:**

> any dragon breeds mentioned are from Temeraire but other than that it has nothing to do with the series lol. just some lore and stuff because it made writing about dragons easier oops
> 
> here's a [good reference](https://www.deviantart.com/kalia24/gallery/30607345/temeraire-series-dragons) for photos of the dragons i mention
> 
> also i know NOTHING about writing medieval/etc. AUs so apologies for the vagueness of certain concepts, i'm still trying to learn for the future :))

Perhaps, as prince, George wasn't meant to visit the dragons' stables as often as he did. And if he were, George thought that maybe he ought to keep up-to-date with the going-ons surrounding the establishment, especially considering the stranger that seemed to be caring for the dragons, rather than Phil, the kingdom's dragons' stablehand.

Clearly, George appears visibly confused, as a passing servant tells him, "Phil had something come up, so he needed to return to his home province. That's his replacement."

George nods, and thanks his informant. Phil had never mentioned anything about any business elsewhere, but George shrugs it off, as he had no reason to need to know these sorts of things. The prince takes a second observation of the stranger at the stables from where he stood. 

The new stablehand was a tall, vaguely muscular blond. He looked young—maybe even younger than George—but his mindful, attentive actions suggest he is experienced with dragons. He seemed a fit replacement for Phil. 

George approaches slowly, keeping quiet surveillance, studying how the man interacted with the creatures.

"Wonderful, aren't they?"

Despite George's unexpected appearance, the stablehand doesn't so much as flinch at the abruptness of his greeting. "Hm. Well-behaved, too," the man says. "Phil knew best how to manage dragons. Always had a knack for understanding them."

The statement takes George by surprise. He frowns. "You knew Phil?"

The stablehand nods curtly, attention still pulled towards the Grayling dragon he had been tending to. "I did. He is an old friend. Met him way back when."

George watches as the dragon leans into the stablehand's touch. "You don't look quite old enough to be qualified to say "way back when"," he jokes.

A quaint smile toys on the stablehand's lips. "Sure, but I have lived much more life than you might think." It was quite obviously a topic the man didn't wish to discuss, judging by his quick change of subject. "Did you know Phil thought dragons were quite possibly some of the most incredible beings to exist on this earth?"

"I did. And what do _you_ think of them?" George inquires.

The stablehand seems to ponder a moment, considering his next words."I think that they are handsome beasts. All intelligent eyes, graceful limbs. I imagine the feeling of spreading your wings and letting the wind carry you, watching the ground breeze by below you—the sensation must be freeing. Incomparable."

"You seem to empathize quite a bit with them," George notes.

The man finally looks to George. "I do. Is there an issue with that, my prince?" The stablehand asks, quirking an eyebrow.

George shakes his head. "Of course not. Just an observation. And just as such; you speak rather eloquently for a stablehand. Your speech is closer to that of nobility." Perhaps George was being too forward, but the man seems unfazed. Maybe the stablehand can tell that George is only testing him—the prince wanted to see if he was worth the company, as it was difficult to find in his position.

"Well, you cannot be brash or rude around such respectable creatures. They are elegant, poised, regal. That," the man pauses, "and I _am_ in the presence of his royal highness."

George laughs. "If I asked you speak more like that of a stablehand, would you?"

"I might," the stablehand says, lifting his chin in a sort of mirthful defiance, as if challenging the prince. It reminded George of Phil, and how he would openly disagree with the prince. Similarly to Phil, George felt the new stablehand would not be walking on eggshells around him.

"And if _I_ stopped speaking like royalty?" George suggests. 

The man gives a halfhearted shrug. "Then perhaps I would."

George hums in acknowledgement, but says nothing in return. He excuses himself, letting the stablehand return to his work. George might say the stranger had aced his evaluation.

But, as he stalks off, George realizes he had never actually asked for the man's name. Perhaps he would have to ask the next time he visits the dragons.

* * *

As it would turn out, George would return the next day. It was inevitable that he would return already, but even the prince himself hadn't expected his next visit to be so early.

"Hello, your highness," the stablehand greets. "You're back so soon. Do you not have princely duties to attend to?"

"I do, just not at the moment," George says dismissively. "I wanted to see how the dragons were taking to you. They seem to like you quite a bit."

"I'm glad you think so. I'd like to hope they do, too." The man smiles. George has caught him in the midst of caring for one of the newer dragons—a young Winchester. It would be raised to become a courier for the king. Originally, Phil had offered to let George help him with the dragon when it arrived, but it would seem that plans had changed.

George gently drags his fingers over the Winchester's muddy brown scales. "Perhaps they only like you because you're the person that feeds them."

"We'll never know." The stablehand laughs. His gaze is trained on George's careful hand against the Winchester.

"I suppose not," George concurs. He drops his arm, taking a step back to allow the man space after noticing how close they had gotten. "What is your name, by the way? I didn't quite catch it yesterday."

"I assumed you already knew, since you hadn't asked. It's Clay," he amends. Sharp blue eyes seem to bore into George's soul as Clay looks to him. "What sparked your fascination in dragons, if you don't mind my asking? I've met many royals and not one seemed so interested as to send a mere glance in the way of their stables."

While George usually had a typical, general response for anyone who asked a similar question, Clay seemed... _different._ Worthy of an honest answer. "I'm sure you know that they keep much better company than most people. Coming here was a sort of escape, and I always enjoyed hearing Phil's stories. He only fuelled my interest in them. He never treated me like a prince, either. Wasn't afraid of me wanting to care for the dragons, wasn't afraid of me getting roughed up. Good man, he is. What about you?" He asks.

"I've been around them all my life," Clay admits. "It was only natural I learn so much about them. Might I be so bold as to venture out and ask who your favourite dragon is, of your stables?"

George has to genuinely think of his reply this time. He had never truly thought about who his favourite might be. "Well, I like them all equally," he starts slowly. It was a safe bet, but clearly not an answer Clay wanted, so he continues, "If I had to choose, though, I'd say our Pascal's Blue, Spirit. I have terrible colourblindness when it comes to reds and greens, so the blue of her scales is quite refreshing in comparison to the overabundance of dull yellows in my life."

"Hm."

"Why do you ask?" George questions, curious. No one had ever asked him the question before.

"I don't know," Clay says lightly. "You can tell a lot about a person by their choice in dragon."

George hums. "I wouldn't have figured. Have you decided on a favourite?"

Clay shakes his head. "I haven't known any of them long enough. In general, though, I admire Papillon Noirs. Their iridescence is a sight to behold, truly. I also like Parnassians' pattern."

George furrows his brow. "I have never seen a Parnassian in person before. They're the black and white dragons, right? Similar to the butterfly?"

The stablehand nods. "Precisely. I'm sure you'll come across one some day, Prince George. As king you'll be sure to encounter plenty more breeds than what you keep here. Most kingdoms who keep dragons tend to have a hidden gem."

"Do we have one, would you know?" George asks. Phil had never spoken of anything like what Clay was talking about. His interest was peaked.

"Your Xenica," Clay tells him. "She's the first I've met. She only tolerates me, of course. You know they have an inclination towards female captains and caretakers?"

"I did, actually," George says excitedly. Perhaps all his time spent with Phil and the dragons had paid off. "Phil told me she nearly bit off his hand the first time he saddled her for one of our female captains. Safe to say it took a while to regain her trust."

There's a wide, amused grin on Clay's face. "I'd imagine. Any other stories you'd like to share? I haven't spoken to Phil in a long time."

George bites his lip to keep himself from falling victim to the contagious smile Clay wore. "I might. Only if you tell me what else you may know about dragons. Phil's journals never did them justice," George requests.

Clay gives a teasing shallow bow. "Your wish is my command, your highness."

"Please," George sighs. "Just call me George."

* * *

After a steady few weeks of consistent visitation, George would consider him and Clay good friends—to say otherwise simply didn't make sense to him at that point. They got along rather well, and as George had predicted, Clay was not afraid oppose him, or joke at the prince's expense. Phil was one of the other few who was the same way, but with Clay, George felt _different,_ however he couldn't quite place a finger on the sentiment. It irked him, like having a word stuck on the tip of his tongue.

As George approached the grand stables, he notices Clay with a deeply pensive expression etched onto his face. He holds a piece of parchment in his hands. Clay is barely aware of George's presence.

"What's the matter?" The prince asks.

Clay huffs. George surveys as his eyes flicker back and forth over the words scrawled on the paper. "Nothing much. Just a letter from home. Some sort of... _conflict._ It's not anything I need to be there for, though," he answers rather vaguely. 

"You know you're allowed time off, right? If it's important enough to send you a letter," George tells him earnestly. He is certain Clay _does_ know this, but George feels a need to verify his understanding.

His suspicions are confirmed as Clay replies, "I know. But, like I said. Not too much of a concern, at least not right now."

George nods. "If you say so. Don't be afraid to let me know if you need to leave. It's all the same as Phil's situation. Contrary to popular belief, the nobility in this kingdom _does_ care for those who aren't," he joshes.

Clay chuckles as he folds the parchment, tucking it into the pocket of his coat. "And I am appreciative of that. I'm sure all his majesty's subjects are. But everything is alright, I insist. So what brings you here?"

George shrugs. "The usual. Checking in with the dragons."

Clay pouts his bottom lip. "You're not here for me?"

George snorts, shaking his head. "Never. You're great, but not _that_ great."

Clay rolls his eyes. "I'm flattered, really," he snarks, bringing a hand over his heart in mock sincerity. George swats at him.

"You should be. It's the highest compliment from the prince," George says matter-of-factly, despite the untruthfulness of the statement. He liked to think that he had gotten better at biting back with his replies over the course of getting to know Clay.

"Is it now?" Clay raises an eyebrow.

George taps his chin as if deep in thought. "I think I would know. Being that I am, in fact, the prince himself."

"And you're certain about that?" Clay quips, giving George a once over. It sends a shiver down the prince's spine, but George does his best to brush off the feeling. "Looks like you're some commoner to me. I don't think I know of a Prince George."

George scoffs, folding his arms over his chest. It was hard to act intimidating when he was smaller than who he was speaking with. "Very funny. I don't think you have any room to speak on my way of dress, _stablehand."_

Clay waves a nonchalant hand. "The dirt doesn't do me justice. I swear that I am _extremely_ handsome, you just aren't victim to my wiles since you've never seen me clean from a bath."

"You take baths?" George retorts.

Clay laughs. "Shut up. Not all of us have the luxury of being clean _all_ the time, your greatness."

"Call me that again and I might just have you executed."

A shit-eating grin slowly grows on Clay's face. Maybe George should not have mentioned anything about the, quite frankly, _distasteful_ form of address. "Why not, _your greatness?_ I'm only being polite."

George pulls a face, scrunching his nose in disgust, as if having caught a whiff of something rancid. "Oh, that's it. I will most certainly be having a word with my father. I think you ought to start running sooner rather than later. Get a head start."

Clay tilts his head. "I thought you were the prince, not the court jester," he sallies.

 _"You,"_ George says pointedly, "are toeing a very fine line, my friend."

Clay shrugs, and George almost swears he sees the man wink. "Maybe I just like pushing your buttons."

George sighs, though not unfondly. "It _would_ seem that way, wouldn't it?"

They continue their friendly banter for maybe an hour longer before George is found by his father's manservant and hustled back to the castle to get ready for a formal dinner he was meant to attend. It was something important, but George couldn't be bothered to remember why. All he knew was that some diplomats from neighbouring kingdoms were also meant to attend.

Later that night, after the dinner is finally over, George goes to seek out Clay. He realized that politics were very important to him not only as prince, but to him as the future king as well, but George couldn't help but find them mundane and boring. He hopes for Clay to lift his spirits, but the man is nowhere to be found.

George gives up his search after little time, as it was late, and he had already nearly been put to sleep by the feast. He treks his way back to his room and readies himself for bed. He puts out any candles and kills the blaze that warms the room, but despite the newfound darkness in his chambers, he is hit with a sudden wave of sleeplessness.

He doesn't bother relighting any candles to take to reading, instead opting to move out to his balcony to watch the stars. Rather than overlooking the kingdom, George's balcony overlooked a large, open field that eventually dwindled into a thick forest far in the distance. During the day if he were to look out, some days he might find knights training, or Clay out with a dragon. On others, children would be running around the field without a care in the world. At night, however, the field sits unoccupied.

At least, it usually did.

Someone is running out into the open field, their cloak flowing behind them. They stop somewhere in the middle, pulling their hood down, neck craned back staring up at the sky. George squints at the figure, who he thinks resembles _Clay,_ of all people, but it was difficult to say from such a distance. 

"What the hell is he doing out there?" George wonders aloud to himself. 

Then, in the blink of an eye, who George believed to be Clay is replaced by a dragon. George is unable to decipher what kind of dragon, but it's no matter—it would be just as shocking regardless of breed.

The dragon takes off in an instant towards the forest, disappearing into the night sky. George feels glued to his spot, completely and utterly astounded.

If the person out in the field _had_ been Clay, then that meant the man was a _dragon shifter,_ of which George believed to be wiped out entirely. It was what most folk believed. At least, sightings had been unheard of for many years now. Obviously, some were simply in hiding.

It wasn't as if the discovery was devastating—not at all. It was intriguing, exciting, even. But, if anything, certain unique things about Clay as the new stablehand had started to fall into place. His interactions and great understanding of the dragons that the kingdom kept made all the more sense, if he were truly the dragon shifter George had just witnessed. He understood the creatures on an _entirely different level_ than any plain human would, which was an incredible concept to George. The prince was extremely interested in dragons as is—he couldn't imagine the sort of research he could achieve with someone able to communicate with the beasts.

But then, however, George is struck with a thought. 

_Would it be the right thing to do, to bring this up to Clay? What if that actually hadn't been him? What if Clay had been_ meaning _to keep this ability a secret?_ Questions ran through George's mind at a pace he was unable to keep up with.

He wanders back to his bed, sliding under the covers as thoughts continued to bounce around his skull. George finally decides, as he succumbs to sleep, that he wouldn't bring it up to Clay, at least not yet. George was certain his friend had reasons to keep the fact that he was a dragon shifter a secret, and the prince wasn't quite willing to risk the relationship they had built over time just yet. _If_ Clay was a dragon shifter.

By the next morning, George has almost forgotten about the night's previous events. He attends to his regular duties as prince, before sneaking his way down to the stables to visit with Clay, who is there as he usually is. Nothing seems nor feels out of place. As if nothing had changed, even if Clay hadn't know it yet. 

The two begin to form a pattern over time, and soon George thinks it possible to believe he spent most of his time with Clay. He tried his best to not neglect his other friends, but whatever he had with Clay had been developing into _more._

They share their first kiss about three weeks after _that_ night, but by then, the memory is all but swept away into the corners of George's brain. They build a steady rhythm of stolen kisses and secret embraces, and George couldn't be happier. 

Over the following weeks as well, George and Clay had gradually fallen into a routine of the latter sneaking into the prince's room late at night for some more... _intimate_ visits. Their relationship had only grown stronger, well beyond what George had previously deemed "good friends". It was a courtship, George wanted to hope, though unfortunately one that had to be kept hidden at the moment. Which brought them here.

Clay sits upright against the headboard of George's bed. George lies between his legs, his head resting against Clay's stomach. A word hadn't been exchanged between the two for what felt like hours. It was a content silence.

George watches the fire that had been slowly burning out in the fireplace with disinterest. A sudden thought passes through his mind, about weeks ago, about what he had seen from out on the balcony. George had never found the right moment to bring it up, fearing Clay might shut him out, if what George had seen was true to what he had believed it to be—clearly, the dragon shifting was kept a secret for a reason, even if those reasons were only known to Clay. However, as George weighs the thought, he thinks that it would be better to bring up the topic now, if never. If it ruined their relationship, so be it—it would pain George deeply, but harbouring such a secret for any longer was just as miserable.

"I wanted to ask you something, Clay. You don't have to answer honestly, or at all, but... I'd really like if you did," George says quietly, watching the shadows on the wall flicker with each jump of the flames in the fireplace. Clay cards his fingers through George's hair, a warm, solid presence behind the prince.

Clay's fingers pause. "What are you talking about? Are you alright?"

"Yes, I'm fine, I just—" George sighs, tilting his head back to face Clay, who looks down at the prince with concerned eyes. "I remember a few weeks ago, I... I _saw_ something. It was the night after you had received that letter from home. I went looking for you, at the stables, but you weren't there, so I went back to my room. It was... out in the fields, I thought I saw _you,_ but then... then you were a dragon, and I—I thought dragon shifters were extinct, Clay."

Clay blinks, before hanging his head somewhat ashamedly. "Never extinct. Just... very few," he says. His voice is hushed, nearly a whisper. George almost misses his words, but they confirmed George's speculation loud and clear.

"So you—"

"I am," Clay admits. "That letter, I got... I travelled home that night and back. No one noticed except for you, I suppose."

"Poor timing?" George asks, a weak attempt at humour. He did not particularly enjoy the solemness that fell over the room.

"Maybe. But..." Clay pauses, as if debating whether he should say his next words aloud to George. He takes a deep breath. "You should know that you might know me under another name. A name that identified me as a shifter, essentially. Dream."

 _Dream._ George was very well aware of that name. Once a famed dragon shifter, though his true identity had always been unknown to the world. He was known most notably for helping out kingdoms in need or under attack, despite having no known relations with any. Many people who spoke of Dream had deemed him a good samaritan, which George was not inclined to disagree with. The dragon shifter, so it had been told, had never expected anything in return for his actions. He had disappeared off the face of the earth a few years back, nevertheless.

George knits his brows. "You—you're _the_ Dream? What... what happened to you? Any kingdom aware of your existence believed you to be dead."

"I was kidnapped by people who were... less than fans of me. What I did," Clay tells him. "I was shut away in captivity for five or so years."

George frowns. He couldn't quite understand why anyone would want to kidnap someone who only promoted peace across many nations. Breeders of chaos, perhaps. "And you couldn't just escape? Surely being part dragon—"

Clay shakes his head. "It was already difficult because of the sheer amount of eyes on me at all times. It was made impossible by enchanted shackles that prevented me from, well, becoming a dragon. I was starved, tortured. I was too beaten down to fight back by a month in. It was quite possibly the longest few years of my life. I wished it to end several times."

"How did you escape, then?"

Clay shrugs. His fingers now maneuvered mindlessly through George's hair. "Pure luck. After five years it's reasonable to believe your captive to be too weak to even attempt getting out, but I saw an opportunity and I took it. The usual guards, as well as the leader as it would be of the group had a sort of voyage they needed to take. Left only a few newbies to keep watch. I'm not proud of what I did that day, but had I not done what I had to, it's likely I would still be rotting away in some cave with no hope of seeing the sun again. There is an insurmountable amount of blood on my hands, George, and it won't wash away," Clay's voice breaks. It saddens George greatly so. Clay didn't deserve that kind of burden on his shoulders.

George sits up and turns to face Clay, gently taking his hands. "These are no hands of a killer. Their purpose is not to bathe in blood. Know that whatever you did was out of necessity. Tell me you know that."

Clay avoids his gaze. "You don't understand, George."

"Sure I don't, but I know _you,"_ George insists. "I can tell it's not something you enjoyed, and that makes all the difference. Whether you recognize that or not."

"You shouldn't be associating with me, George," Clay says. "You deserve better."

George exhales softly, but doesn't press further. He knows how stubborn Clay is, and that it would take a hell of a lot of convincing to get him to believe he _wasn't_ a murderer. So, instead he asks, "Does my father know about this?"

"He does. Phil was one of the few who knew of my escape and whereabouts. When he heard he had some business to attend to in another province, he thought no one to be entrusted with the care of the dragons except for me. He recommended me to the king. Your father trusts me enough, but sometimes I feel like I'm back in that cave, eyes on me at all times. I am not free, here, but I would do anything for Phil. I owe him my life."

George is puzzled by the admission. "You're—you have no supervisors, though. How is my father keeping watch?"

Clay huffs out a laugh, almost offended. "Have you never seen at least one knight nearby at all times? Have you never seen the way they look at me when you're close? They know I'm dangerous."

"That's... that's bullshit!" George exclaims. "You're not dangerous."

Clay's expression turns cold. "Glad to see your enthusiasm, George, but until you're king, if I'm even still here by then, it's what I must live with," he says lowly. "I suggest you distance yourself. From me. It would only be what's best for both of us."

George scoffs. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"Even if my human years are the equivalent of being younger to yours, I still have much more life experience than you have. Than you might ever have," Clay snaps. "Attachment is never a good thing, George, especially not when it comes to someone who is practically immortal compared to you."

"Why not live in the present, Clay?" George argues. "Maybe attachment is not ideal for _me,_ but there has to be something that tethers you to human life. It would be _unbelievably_ easy for you to fly away and never return, even despite my father's commands. You may think you can, but you can't fool me. I'm not as naive as you might think."

Clay swiftly moves to the edge of the bed, turning his back on George. "Maybe. But if you knew what was best for you, you wouldn't insist on making this work."

He stands and composes himself before silently leaving the room. George doesn't try to stop him. Any effort would be fruitless. 

_He'll come around,_ George thinks. _He has to._

* * *

As predicted, Clay _does_ eventually come around. At least, he stops avoiding George, finally.

The prince had suggested they talk it over, desperate to repair their situation. George was sure Clay didn't want to maintain the disappearing act any longer as much as George didn't want it to continue. The prince proposes they go out stargazing later one night, since the weather was favourable. The open air and field would let them speak without any onlookers or eavesdroppers, and get whatever troubles they needed to off their chest and released into the wind. 

The moon and stars are brilliant that night, illuminating the field with a dull blue gleam. George and Clay walk side-by-side out into the centre. George is brave enough to brush his fingers against Clay's, but they never interlock. 

They settle on a spot in the clearing, laying down in the grass. George wishes he could rest his head on Clay's chest like he might've prior to their brief falling out, but he pushes the desire aside. It was time to discuss—well, _anything._

It's awkward, at first, neither knowing where to start. Eventually, though, they begin a back-and-forth flow of conversation, George asking questions, Clay providing him with honest responses, and occasionally vice versa. After time, in a fit of boldness, George leans into Clay, and luckily the latter doesn't seem opposed. 

"—at some point it becomes too tiring to shift," Clay explains. "Dragon shifters are basically presented with the choice of remaining a human or dragon for the rest of their life. Of course, there's always the more morbid option, but I don't like to think about it. It's a while away, anyways."

George draws invisible designs on Clay's arm. "Have you thought about what you might want to do?"

"Probably stay a dragon," Dream responds offhandedly. "I don't think I'd be willing to give up flight before my death."

"Freeing. Incomparable," George says.

"What?"

"That's how you described it. Way back when. Flying, I mean," George clarifies. 

"Oh. Yeah," Clay says rather dumbly. "You remembered?"

"I do." George nods. "That was our first conversation. I hadn't even known your name, then. Did you know I used to spend nearly _all_ my free time in the stables with Phil and the dragons before he left?"

"I didn't _know_ that, but I suppose I could have guessed."

George hums. "It's why I was there, your first day. If it were a stable full of horses you best believe I'd rather be anywhere else. I would have never known you, other than in passing."

Clay laughs, and it's a sound George hadn't realized he had missed. "It wasn't the mystery of what poor bastard would have to attempt to fill Phil's shoes? The mystery of who was only being set up to disappoint the king until Phil returned? It wasn't _that_ that brought the prince to where the dragons are kept?"

George shifts onto his side, propping up his chin in his palm. "You're an idiot."

Clay snorts. He turns his head, his eyes seemingly glowing in the darkness. "And you're not? You fell for the one person in this place that will outlive you several times over. You'll be all wrinkles one day and I'll look not a day older than thirty-five."

"Don't exclude yourself from this equation," George counters. _"You_ fell for the mortal prince."

"So we both made a mistake," Clay says curtly, diverting his gaze back up to the night sky.

"Is that what you think this is?"

"Of course not, George," Clay protests, bringing his hands to cover his face. "I just—what happens when you die? Huh? Am I just meant to move on like it's that easy?"

It hurt George to know that's what Clay was so concerned about. It was _sweet_ to know that he cared, in a way, but it was also disheartening to know the grief it gave Clay. "It's what I would want. But don't worry yourself about it now. I'm plenty young still. In my prime, if you will."

Clay drops his arms, staring at George. _"This_ is your prime? Alright, maybe this _is_ a mistake," he teases, and a weight feels removed from George's shoulders.

"Hey!" George squawks, hitting Clay's arm.

"What? Not my fault you're this ugly."

George scoffs, falling back onto the ground. "You are an absolute prick, you know that?"

"Of course," Clay says teasingly. "That's what I'm here for. If not to bother you, then what is my purpose?"

George reaches down to lace his fingers between Clay's. "Your purpose is to love me, is what. Just as I am meant to do for you," he says, as if all the the answers to the universe's questions were that simple.

"Sap," Clay retorts.

"Always. But only for you," George tells him. He says it more love-stricken than what was necessary, but he means his words all the same.

"I don't deserve you," Clay says quietly.

George turns to press a gentle, reassuring kiss to Clay's temple. "And yet somehow, I beg to differ."

A moment of silence looms over them. Somewhere, George can hear crickets chirping, and distantly the leaves of trees swaying in the breeze. 

Clay suddenly sits up. "Hey, you wanna see something neat?" He asks.

George lolls his head to the side to look at Clay, who is grinning, excitement alight on his face. George eyes him skeptically. "Define "neat"."

Clay taps a finger on George's forehead. "Don't worry your pretty little head about it. You'll like it, I promise. Just close your eyes."

"Close my... _what?_ No I fucking won't!" George protests, sitting up himself. "What are you planning?"

This time, Clay flicks George's forehead. "You have to trust me. If you say no I'm not ever going to give you an opportunity to see what I want to show you again. _Never."_

"Fine," George groans. He sighs, letting his eyelids fall shut. 

It worries George when he hears the rustling of Clay's clothing and footsteps growing further away, but he lets go of all concern when he hears Clay shout, _"Okay, George, open your eyes in three, two_ — _"_

There is no _"one",_ however, but a sort of _whoosh!_ fills George's ears, and he takes that as his cue to open his eyes. A little distance away in the clearing is no longer Clay, but the dragon— _Dream_ —that George had seen all too long ago. 

In the soft luminance of the moonlight, and a now unmoving figure, George is able to see that he would have never guessed the kind of dragon Clay would shift into, as wracking through his brain for everything he knew about different breeds of dragons, Clay fit not one description. George supposed dragon shifters were their own breed, as they were their own species. 

Clay takes only a few strides forward, and he's already directly in front of George. He wasn't the largest dragon George had seen, nor was he the smallest. His scales to George were, admittedly, an ugly yellowish-brown, but Clay would later tell him they were something close to a forest green. His eyes remained the same striking colour as when Clay was human, only more _reptilian_. George couldn't help but admire this form in awe.

The prince brings a hesitant hand up to the dragon's head— _Clay, it's Clay,_ George has to remind himself—cautiously pressing a hand to his cheek. Clay leans into the touch. George blinks, still amazed at experiencing Clay's ability up close. Then, in a moment's notice, the touch of cold, rough scales is replaced by that of warm, soft human skin. Clay stares back at George, a soft smile on his face.

"Did you like that?" Clay asks.

"I think that constitutes as a bit more than "neat"," George quips. "But yes, I did like that."

Clay winks. "Glad you trusted me?"

George lets out a quiet laugh, brushing his thumb over Clay's cheek. "Yes, I am. Only this once, though. For all I know you were just going to up and leave me in the middle of this dark field."

In an unexpected response, Clay dips his head forward a presses a kiss to George lips. The prince leans into it, bringing his other hand to Clay's face. George thinks Clay may have initiated the contact to distract him, but George couldn't find it in himself to complain.

George, though reluctant, is the first to pull away. "You thought about it, didn't you?"

"It was a passing thought," Clay confesses. "You have to admit it would have been funny."

George shoves Clay's chest. "No, it wouldn't have! Not even a little bit!"

 _"Well_ — _"_

_"No!"_

* * *

They result in having a hasty return to their previous routine, and both George and Clay are content with this.

In addition to their initial patterns, they had also started to regularly sneak out into the clearing where Clay could show George the things he could accomplish as a dragon, one night even inviting the prince to hop on and go for a short flight with Clay—the dragon shifter was right, too, about the sensation of flying; _freeing and incomparable._ Although (unfortunately, in George's opinion), they didn't fly often from then on due to the increased risk of getting caught outside the castle, together, in the late hours.

And beyond that, the two had sworn that since their night of reparations in the field and forwards, no more secrets would be kept between them. If they wanted to nurture their relationship as healthily as they could manage, they needed to be as honest as possible. With this, they were able to learn about and understand each other in a whole new way, on a much more profound level. It was unfamiliar territory for George, but he was glad to be navigating it.

So when George approaches Clay with some news, it's not too difficult for him to recognize Clay's displeasure upon hearing it.

"Have you heard, Clay?" George asks excitedly.

Clay raises an eyebrow. "Have I heard what?"

"Phil sent a letter," George informs him. "He implied your position to be more... _permanent_ from hereon. Said what he was dealing with in his home province required more than just a temporary tending to. Means you get to stay."

Clay flashes a halfhearted smile, and George can sense the insincerity both in Clay's expression and tone. "Oh. Um. That's great."

"What's wrong? You don't sound too enthused," George remarks.

"No, I am. I am," Clay swears. "I just never realized this might become permanent."

George waves a hand. "None of that, Clay. There's something else to it," George says, perhaps a bit forcefully.

Clay sighs, bowing his head. He studies the dirt beneath their feet rather intently. "I... I've been thinking, George. I wasn't sure how to approach you about it, was all. But—I don't _want_ to be stuck here forever. I want to travel the world. I don't want to be tied down by human responsibilities forever. I want that _freedom_ that I always talk about—it's been nothing but a theory. Something I haven't known since before I was taken captive so long ago. You have to have understood that wanting at some point in your life," Clay states earnestly.

George takes a deep breath, nodding. "Unfortunately I do. Unlike you, though, I can never act on it, as much as I'd want to. But, if that's how you feel, I can have a word with my father. I understand, Clay."

The suggestion tastes sour leaving George's tongue, but he had to say it. George had thought this may have been an inevitable train of thought of Clay's, ever since George's discovery of him being a dragon shifter, and his deeper understanding of the envy he felt towards the normal dragons. What Clay did not have in common with them was a duty, and pressure. George would never be ready to let go of Clay, but that didn't mean he would stop his lover from leaving. _Besides,_ he thought. _This isn't a breakup._

Clay perks up. Though he wears surprise in his expression, George can tell he is also elated by George's proposal. "I—thank you, George. You have no idea what that means to me."

George smiles, though he fears it doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Anything for you," he says. "I can only wish for you to be happy."

And, true to his word, George later speaks to his father about Clay's wishes. He has to admit to knowing about Clay and him being a dragon shifter, but his father seems more upset at the prospect of having to find a new stablehand for the dragons, since Phil would still be out of commission. The king grants permission for Clay to leave, but only once a suitable replacement was found—by George. George accepts his father's offer, knowing Clay would be absolutely overjoyed by the news, as heartbreaking as it was for the prince.

George tells Clay two days after his talk with the king, a sad endeavour to delay the unavoidable. George was correct by Clay's reaction, unsurprisingly. He tells George he may know a few people who would serve as good candidates, and they set to work. 

The king finally approves a man by the name of Techno to replace Clay, who had also been a good friend of Phil's, though much less talkative and much more stoic. Clay would later tell George in private that Techno was also a skilled fighter and trained magic user, which, quite frankly, was not much of an unexpected piece of information to learn. Techno seemed a man who had plenty of skeletons in his closet, perhaps both literally and figuratively. Not that George would share that conspiracy with anyone.

But then, as if the day couldn't come quick enough, it's time for Clay to depart. George tries not to think about the missing piece of him that would be ripped away for who knew how long as Clay prepares his leave.

"Thank you again, George. I don't think I could ever repay you for this."

"Your love has been more than enough. You weren't meant to stay forever. Phil's letter was unexpected, it only made sense you'd want to leave eventually," George shrugs uselessly.

Clay brings a careful hand to George's cheek. "You have to know it's not like that, George. I would love to stay with you, but I need to be _free_ before I can settle down anywhere. I love you, George. Know this isn't a goodbye, by any means. Reassure me of that, in the very least," he pleads.

"I know this isn't goodbye," George concurs, but he honestly doesn't know how true that may be. The future was very unclear, nothing but murky waters with monsters hidden in their depths. "I'll miss you, though, for as long as you're gone. Write me sometimes, would you? Tell me of your travels. If I can't be there alongside you physically, at least provide me with a description."

Clay smiles, his hand slipping from George's face, arm retreating back to his side. George already misses the touch. "I'll do my best. I'm sure I'll be back in no time. You'll hardly notice I'm gone."

George shakes his head. "I doubt it. The dragons, maybe, but certainly not me."

"I promise, George," Clay tells him wholeheartedly. "It'll feel like no time has passed at all."

"Easy for someone who ages slower to say," George jokes. "A decade for you could go by like it's nothing. You don't go telling me about time."

Clay nods shortly. "Then I won't. Farewell, George."

"Farewell," George echoes, and Clay is gone.

* * *

It was a day like any other, since becoming king.

George found he had gotten bored of it very quickly, never having realized just how miserable life was when there was _truly_ nothing to do, and hardly anyone to speak with who wouldn't talk to him like he _wasn't_ the ruler of a kingdom. By a year in, George had both envied and pitied his father for being able to put with it for as long as he had.

He sits at his throne, which after years still didn't feel right to George. He felt something missing. In fact, in truth, he had felt something missing since Dream's departure what felt like eons ago.

George's boredom is cured when finally, a saving grace in the form of one of his knights appears from the doorway that looked into the throne room.

"Your majesty, there is someone requesting an audience with you. He... he hasn't stated his purpose nor where he hails from, but he's persistent. Shall I let him in?" The knight announces.

George shrugs a shoulder, waving a vague gesture. "I don't see why not."

The knight nods and hurries back out the doorway from which he came. He returns moments later, urging the visitor forward.

"How can I..." George has his usual spiel ready to reel out when realization hits him. _"Oh lord."_

From further down the room stands Clay, looking hardly any different than he had years ago, when he left. He grins. "Hi, George. Been awhile, hasn't it?"

A wave of anger washes over George. He stands from the throne and storms over to the man, riddled with fury. "You _idiot!_ You _absolute_ _motherfucker!_ You think you can come here after _ten fucking years_ and pretend like it's _nothing?!_ Where have you been all this time? I stopped receiving letters _three years ago!"_

The knight takes a step in front of Clay, holding an arm out as if to block him from George. "Your highness, I can—"

George stops in his track, glowering at Clay, and now the knight. "No need. You're dismissed. I have some... _business_ to deal with. _You_ — _"_ George points at Clay, "on the other hand, have a _lot_ of explaining to do."

Clay looks George up and down. George can see that he's wringing his fingers anxiously. "I see you're king now."

"That is _not_ the main concern at the moment, Clay," George snaps.

"I realize. My apologies. You were right, about time. I should have... I'm sorry. I'll tell you everything, anything you want to know. If you'll have me again. I understand if you won't," Clay says quietly. The tone shift takes George aback.

George softens, relaxing his tensed shoulders. It was impossible for him to stay mad at Clay, especially after all their time apart. He couldn't waste any new time together expressing only negative emotions towards Clay. He couldn't waste any new time together, _period_. He didn't know how much they would have, after all. "You haven't changed much at all."

Clay tilts his head, his eyebrows pulled together in both confusion and curiosity. "What's that supposed to mean?" He asks.

George huffs. "Of course I'll have you. I never stopped loving you, Clay. You'd be stupid if you thought I would."

Clay chuckles in a self-deprecating way, hanging his head sheepishly. "I suppose I'm stupid, then. Did I not keep you waiting too long?"

George shakes his head, as if Clay couldn't have said anything more untruthful. "I would wait for as long as it would take if it meant you would return by the end of it. How has that not been drilled into your thick skull by now?"

Clay worries his bottom lip, high spirits having melted away already. "You _know_ attachment is not a good idea, George. You _know_ that. What if—"

"What if my ass," George scoffs, rolling his eyes. There was no way he would let Clay use that line again, not after all this time. "You're here now. That's all that matters. You need to learn that sometimes, attachment is a _good_ thing."

A smile pulls at the corners of Clay's mouth. "I guess. It may as well be if it's what brought me back here. To you."

"To the _now,"_ George adds, in agreement. "It brought you to the present moment. And took you damn well long enough to get here."

Clay laughs, and any uncertainty that may have remained between them up until that moment dissipates in an instant. "Yes, I suppose it did."

**Author's Note:**

> i am not super happy with this so i might rework it later, but have this idea for now i guess lmao
> 
> might add an alternate universe to this alternate universe bc i didn't have enough dragon shifting or dragons i don't think. we shall see hehe
> 
> hope you enjoyed in any case <3  
> (and here's my [tumblr](https://criimsvn.tumblr.com/) if ever you want to drop by! it's new so it's a tad empty, but we'll get there!!)


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